


It's Alright

by Naveria7



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depressed Harry, Depression, Draco Malfoy cares, Drug Abuse, Gang Rape, Good Draco Malfoy, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Not Beta Read, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Destruction, Self-Hatred, Substance Abuse, Twisted perception of reality, Two thirds are no relationship, not between H&D, shITTY ADULTS, will add tags as we go if needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28964061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naveria7/pseuds/Naveria7
Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts there is a promise of healing, grief, love and family.Harry had none to call his own and people were only too keen to remind him. Left alone he spirals out of control.Draco Malfloy lost his name, his fortune and most importantly, he lost his ill pride and accepted help.The hero of the Wizarding world is missing and Draco has decided he will do everything in his power to show Harry that he is loved, that he is cared for and that really, no matter the past...It's alright.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This particular story came to mind while hiking in the Alps. I was fighting so hard to not give in and self-destruct, so in an attempt to give to one of my favorite characters of all times some redemption and help him heal even if I myself cannot, I decided to write a oneshot, that became a three part story, that took over every waking moment of my life.  
> I apologize from the get-go if the narrator is like...patched up, it is just the way my mind takes over writing each character POV.  
> I hope Harry finds a place where he belongs, I hope he finds someone who understands him but doesn't take his bullshit and at the end I hope he really gets better.  
> But who knows where the story will take us.  
> I was not going to post it until it was over, but I decided I need an schedule, so it will be updated once a fortnight, maybe before if I stop editing the finished chapters.  
> I answer all the messages, I will not be posting many author notes as I think it interrupts the story (mainly if downloaded and yes haha brave of me to think anyone would want to download it)  
> I have promised myself to finish this story, so please if I'm late, feel free to harass me.

> _I need to change a couple things 'cause something is missin'_
> 
> _And what if I were to lie, tell you everything is fine?_
> 
> _Every single fucking day I get closer to the grave_
> 
> _(Falling in Reverse)_

After the Battle of Hogwarts everyone got dragged around in a whirlwind of purpose. Some gathering and healing the hurt, others raiding and herding the remaining Death-Eaters and sympathizers, others tried to put the Ministry back together, some others had to gather their fallen ones, but without a fail, everyone had a task as heart-breaking as the last.

Harry had put all his strength and focus in rounding up everyone who might be a threat to the newly liberated Wizarding World. He felt his heart bleeding and ripping to shreds but moving with the usual motions of battles and violence helped ease the crushing weight of loss, so many had he lost during the last battle. Fred, Tonks, Remus, Colin, Lavender, Crabbe, Snape… and if he started to account for the lives of the ones lost beforehand, the weight, the guilt just piled up to an unbearable level. But he carried on with the promise of a respite in a day to come.

It took the Aurors and the civilian volunteers almost three weeks to round up the bulk of Riddle’s sympathizers. By the time the holding cells and Azkaban were bursting by the seams and the funerals were being scheduled one after the other.

Narcissa and Draco Malfoy had avoided the holding cells by appealing that the Aurors and the Wizengamot already had a lot in their hands by having to deal with real murderers and terrorists. At the time Hermione and Harry had spoken for them, they had been released with a tracking spell, limitations to the use of their wands and a wizard’s and witch’s oath to come back when summoned for trial for their involvement in the second Wizarding War.

**

Fred’s funeral was the first one scheduled, it was a rainy afternoon and a sea of redheads, friends and people paying their respects gathered around the closed casket that was to be his last dwelling.

George just stared ahead, minutely responding to prodding from his parents and siblings, looking lost, repeating once and again that _‘Really, Gred was the wrong twin to go’_. Nobody knew how to respond to that.

Despite the idea that Harry’s only friends were the other two halves of the Golden Trio, the twins had been just as close to him as the other two and as such, Harry took the left of George, supporting his best mate as much as possible during trying times, both looking at the set of two tomb stones in front of them.

_Mischief_ it read the first one below Fred’s name and birth and death date, waiting for his other half to join him in the beyond. Waiting the second inscription to be carved to say _Managed._

George stared to the ground and Harry could see he was trying with all his might to come up with a joke, something to honour his lost half, however only silent tears came out. Without a cue, George turned around after squeezing slightly Harry’s hand in acknowledgement and walked to be apparated by Charlie to the burrow.

Harry followed closely behind the family, he was still avoiding Ginny as it was not the time to talk about them, so he walked behind Ron and Hermione.

He wasn’t really paying attention; thoughts of loss, pain, guilt and ‘ _what if’s’_ crowded his mind. Hermione was the one who had spoken to him the most in the bouts she wasn’t joined at the hip to Ron and carrying his grief with her, she had tried to ease Harry’s mind, to tell him he had done his best and nothing was his fault. Than at the contrary, the Wizarding World owed him their newly found freedom. But Harry knew better, he knew that if Dumbledore had not lied to him, if he had revealed that it was in his literal hands to stop the last battle from happening, if he had had the guts to rely on his friends and walked to Voldemort when Parkinson had suggested it, countless lives would’ve been saved.

Harry felt a warm hand pulling him to the side and out of his mind ramblings. “I’m sorry, Harry dear. I’m sure you understand that now is time for family, for us to be united and heal?” Mrs. Weasley said to Harry, she held his cheek softly. Harry was confused, because yes, it was the healing time with his family that he had so looked forward. “You can come next Sunday for supper, yes?” And Harry understood, stomach churning, he was being dismissed, not included. The impact of her words hurt but the facts was, Harry was not family. Of course, he had always known, however it is one thing to know, and another to be confirmed by the people who had welcomed you into their homes. And who was he kidding, if he knew Fred’s blood was on his hands, the Weasley’s were just within their right to not want the reminder staring at them, grieving with them, because-because Harry had no right to do so, right?.

“I understand Mrs. Weasley” Harry barely whispered diverting his eyes, watching how Charlie apparated George away, a strong Fleur held her husband, carrying part of his weight and Ron hugged Hermione, sobbing, waiting for his parents. Molly kissed his cheek, turned to her husband, shook her head sadly at some question he made and left him there, confused and alone, feeling the real weight of loneliness for the first time.

**

Over the week he attended the funerals of Lavender, Colin, even Snape’s to which only Draco and himself had stood under the rain as they lowered him to the ground. He apologized to all the families, some only looked at him, some patted his hand and left him with his guilt without offering any pardon to him, and he understood them, he really did.

Every day after the day’s funeral he expected a letter or a call from someone, surely someone cared about him. But that comfort never came. The hole in the pit of his stomach only kept growing, taking root.

Soon enough, Tonks and Remus’ funerals came, and he was able to hold a fuzzy Teddy while standing beside a distraught Andromeda. Narcissa and Draco Malfoy were there, tides had soon changed, and Andromeda had gathered all the family she had left.

He offered to come by after the funeral, but a grief-stricken Andromeda gathered a sleepy Teddy in her arms with her sister’s arms around her as support, and she had held his face with a free hand and looked at him pitifully. “Thanks for being here, Harry, but I-I think it is time for family? We need time to bond, to heal, I’m sorry. Maybe you could- do the same?” She brushed his hair with her hand motherly. “I’ll send an owl next week for supper and we can talk about Teddy’s visitations?” Harry nodded mutely, not wanting to show his shame, the wounds those words had inflicted upon him, the bitter taste of rejection.

But she was right, this were times for family and bonding and love.

And he had none.

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione ran to hug him. “They didn’t mean anything by it-” she started to say.

“I know Hermione…I know” He held her in his arms. “At what time is your portkey?”

“It departs in two hours, I don’t know what I will find, but I need to go to them…” She said, her words muffled by his chest as he held her close.

“Yes, I know” Harry kissed her forehead “These are trying times, time for family”

“Harry, I didn’t mean-”

“I know Hermione-” He said flatly.

“You know I love you Harry” She hugged him. “Time to go, the lines at the international portkey and security are brimming with people coming back or going away now that nobody’s hiding, it will be a nightmare”

“Write to me. Be safe.” He whispered to her, hugging her one last time.

Harry had offered to go with Hermione, help her search for her parents, keep her company, share comfort, but she had looked at him sadly and explained why it was a bad idea, he hadn’t pushed the matter, he never did, because he did get it…but he had to offer, he needed to try to repair some of the damage his feud with Riddle had caused!

But there was really no way he could begin to do so and the only one phrase was left echoing in his mind. _Time for family_. They all had said. _He could do that_ he thought as he watched the Tonks-Lupin-Malfoy’s disappear through the fireplace at the far left of the cemetery; Malfoy was looking back, an eyebrow raised, he nodded at him sadly before he disappeared after his mother.

Harry apparated to his parent’s graves and stayed there until night came and went.

**

At first Harry tried to pour all his energy in Grimmauld Place, he had agreed with Kreacher that he would put all the non-risky trinkets he didn’t want to keep in the drawing room for Kreacher to peruse, as long as everything he chose to safeguard fit in the enchanted cupboard he had charmed for the elf’s sole use, all else would be sent to curse breaker for perusal and destruction. And so, the negotiations with his elf had started.

Letters and calls continued to be absent, the nagging feeling of abandonment continued to cloak him and the heaviness in his gut never left, the possibility of them contacting him, and their continued absenteeism was crushing his psyche; so in an effort to stop longing for them, he ordered Kreacher to close the floo and Harry set to work on the wards.

The project was quite large, the existing wards no longer applied or worked as they should, so he headed once a day to the library to learn all he needed to remove and weave new ones. And like that, Harry became fixated with rewarding his house, weaving for hours. One day, he weaved a blood ward and Kreacher was expelled from the house, after checking Kreacher’s link to him and that the house-elf had not been affected, he apologized and included the old elf inside the wards. By the end of the project, his house was impenetrable, even if it remained visible to the world.

The passage of time became irrelevant to Harry, now that no contact was possible, the anxiety of longing disappeared slowly. However, numbness started to creep unnoticed.

By the end of Summer, Harry had headed to the Ministry and taken several NEWTs, his house re-construction endeavour had had the effect of preparing him quite thoroughly for them, including in potions, history and ancient runes, bringing him to 6 O’s.

Afterwards, Harry found himself at loss of what to do with his life, so he became obsessed with wandless lore, the vast library of Grimmauld Place once again kept him grounded for a while, but not for long, loneliness and numbness started to crawl in his psyche, it was gradual, unnoticeable at first and soon all his mind seemed to repeat was _Time for healing, time for family._

Lost in his thoughts Harry found himself at Hogwarts’ gates, in his brief passage through Hogsmeade he noticed Yule motifs, more than half a year had passed within a blink. Going through, surrounded by the echo of the loneliness left, Harry followed the path to Hogwarts, fearing the sight of a fraying castle.

In Harry’s absence, Hogwarts had been slowly patched, his former glory not restored, but in the mend. Flashbacks of the last couple of years started to crowd him and so he found himself standing at the edge of the Dark Forrest, memories of his own death surrounded him, specially the moments before facing Riddle. He had at the time, thrown away the resurrection stone as he thought he would be soon joining all of them. Now, he saw the mistake on his actions, a mistake he hoped he could amend. One lighting spell later, he followed his own steps of that faithful day.

Harry searched for hours, maybe even a day or two. His hands raw, his clothes damp and dirty, but he didn’t waver, he kept looking for the ring, for the stone. Shivering, after what felt like an eternity his fingers closed on the familiar weight of the stone, its energy vibrating around him, consoling, familiar.

Feeling the castle wards around him, he understood the singularities, and concentrating on them, Harry took one last look at Hogwarts, with a promise on his lips to never come back and twisted.

**

Harry was standing in the only apparition point he’d left open, looking fixatedly to his closed fist, feeling the thrumming unknown magic in his core, anxiety and excitement thrumming in his gut, in his veins. He would finally be able to heal, to bond.

“Master?” Kreacher asked confused and fearful, probably feeling the strange magic surrounding his Master.

“Don’t worry, Kreacher. It’s just- family” He rushed out. “Now, leave, I need to be alone.”

Thrice were the times Harry turned the stone in his hand. The first one to arrive was his Mother, looking young as always, as old as she would ever be.

“My dear boy” Her voice rang spectrally.


	2. Chapter 2

> I think I'm going nowhere like a rat trapped in a maze
> 
> Every wall that I knock down is just a wall that I replace
> 
> I'm in a race against myself I try to keep a steady pace
> 
> How the fuck will I escape if I never close my case?
> 
> (Falling in Reverse)

Harry’s time was spent surrounded by so much love, his parents, Sirius…even Remus surrounded him with stories and recollections of their time before the war. James and Lili hugged and kissed, and Harry was enveloped in a sentiment of tenderness like he had not felt before.

“I miss you both” Harry sobbed beside their apparition that first night. “I’ve always missed you”

“My love, we never wanted to part with you” His mom held a cold immaterial hand against his cheek. Her voice ethereal, echoey.

“I protected you with my life, I wanted only the best for you” James piped in.

“I only wanted my parents, to belong, be loved” Harry continued to sob while his parents left cold traces on his skin as they patted their son.

Next day Sirius looked just like the night he had fallen through the veil, his ever-present cigarette in his hand, he looked at Harry with such pride, that for a moment or two, Harry could almost forgive himself.

“I’m sorry you died, Padfoot” Harry said looking to the floor, shame flowing through his veins.

“It was not your fault, pup” Sirius tried to ruffle his hair, but he couldn’t, because he was not really alive, not quite here. “I only wanted the best for you”

“Regulus betrayed Voldemort, you know?” Harry changed the topic. “He died a hero”

“It’s all water under the bridge now, cub” Sirius’ cigarette fuming around him. “But I’m glad to know that my baby brother was not as gone as the rest of them” He said exhaling a cloud of smoke.

Remus asked constantly about Tonks and Teddy, Harry told him that Tonks was waiting for him in the beyond, wherever that was, but that Teddy was fine, surrounded by family and so much love. He hadn’t had the heart to tell him that the last time he had seen the infant was at Remus’s own funeral. Harry would’ve brought Tonks, but dammit! It was time for the family, he got it now, it was time to be egoist and enjoy the love of the people that would never ask anything in return, they’d just love him because he was Harry, only Harry.

***

Sleepless nights were a normal occurrence, he usually skipped meals as he couldn’t bring himself to separate from the atmosphere his family wove around him. The old elf refused to enter the room the family occupied, the stone’s magic seemed to repel the old elf, and so Harry had isolated himself from the living.

It took weeks, maybe months for the first real effects of the stone to manifest, his parents were less corporeal (if it even made sense), his mom was always smiling, but she seemed tired, she looked a little bit aged even. It didn’t matter because she continued to fail to call him only Harry, many variances were in place, but his favourite was ‘ _Harry-boo’_.

James had definitely aged a little bit, looking more late twenties than his whopping 22 he’d had by the time of his death. James had taken to sleep in his wife’s shoulder more often than even Harry.

Sirius spent half of his time looking at Remus and talking to him, his temper started to become short. Discussions started to erupt around the group, but after growing up alone, even this development was welcome to Harry.

Remus missed his wife, he missed his son, he wanted to go to Teddy or go back to Dora. Harry would tell him Teddy couldn’t see him and that he didn’t know how to send only him back. And after the repeated discussion, some level of depression seemed to settle on the shoulders of his ex-professor.

Maybe the most worrisome was Harry’s development through the whole ordeal. He had taken to drink either _No-sleep draught_ or _Sleepless draught_. It was an effort to make himself sleep when his mother’s nagging egged him too much, and to not sleep when his heart felt so full that he could not make himself sleep.

Maybe Harry’s behaviour was not healthy, but he felt content, loved. And because of that, he slowly started to forget there was a whole world outside of the walls of 12 Grimmauld place.

***

There was no transition or indication of things changing, just one day Harry had encountered the other inhabitants of 12 Grimmauld Place changed.

Lily would not stop crying, asking for Harry’s forgiveness for having left him and that he had been raised by her spiteful sister. There was no calming her, the woman was completely distraught for hours on end, sobbing softly whenever whatever fuelled her seemed depleted, then she would sleep somewhere in the room. James was angry at Harry, his wife’s pain hit him hard and wanted to be set to rest, the way it should’ve been without the use of the stone, he would beg and scream, but Harry found it difficult to feel bad about it. He wanted his parents there, even if they seemed tired, the benefits of being dead was that they would not be affected if Harry failed to comply to their demands, and he wasn’t ready to let go.

Sirius was angry and tired all the time, there was no way to calm them to an easy chat or engage them in civilized banter, Sirius in his infinite wisdom had materialized a bottle of firewhiskey from heaven knows where, and had resorted to get sloshed everywhere. Harry followed suit.

The worst of them all was Remus, he was plainly unresponsive, even Lily seemed full of _life_ compared to Lupin who just sat there, looking at the fire.

There was a day out of the ordinary when an over-excited elf appeared before Harry and the family claiming an heir of the most ancient house of Black was at the edge of the wards, asking to talk to Harry for a second or two, the _Sir_ seemed worried to Kreacher and needed to be tended to immediately by Master!

Looking out the window, the pale hair and even paler face of Draco Malfoy was at the border of the wards. Harry thought he knew the reason he was there and with immense effort brought himself to his feet and retrieved the blond’s wand.

Harry did not remember the last time he had left the house, but the fear and anxiety of doing so now was almost crippling, he negotiated with himself that it would be over in matter of seconds and he could go back to his family, to home.

To Draco, Harry seemed to materialize out of nowhere, the house was visible, but his inhabitants would continue to be sheltered from curious eyes unless they left the protections. Harry realized that Kreacher must’ve left such limits in a desperate effort to make Malfoy stay for a little longer, to be able to serve again.

“ _Malfloy_ ” Harry croaked weakly, already extending the Hawthorn wand to him.

Seemingly surprised, Draco extended his hand immediately to the extended wand, a confused and guarded expression in his face. For a second it seemed he had feared an attack from Harry. Harry would’ve laughed once about Malfoy’s reaction, but detachedly he noticed he did not care enough, he couldn’t make himself react.

“Right, a pleasure as always” Harry said flatly and turned to the house.

“Potter, wait!” The blond’s voice made Harry pause and look over his shoulder. “I was not here for the wand, b-but I appreciate it” Malfoy rushed. Harry seemed to consider this and turned to look at Malfoy directly, waiting for Draco to speak but not offering any encouragement. “I wanted to thank you for- everything really; saving me from the fire, speaking for me after the war, defeating the Dark Lord-” His speech seemed to float around them. “I tried to contact you several times in the past, but all my owls were returned unanswered” he filled in the silence, his stress leaking out of him in waves. Harry only looked at him pensively. “Everyone is wondering where you are, you know? Skeeter is going overboard with her speculations. Andromeda has tried to reach you for the last couple of years, but she mentioned the wards did not allow her to do so, you know?” At the mention of Andromeda, Harry’s expression seemed to close off even more, a deep frown settling in his haggard face.

Draco never was good with silences, he had in the past egged Harry endlessly, but Harry seemed lost in thought so he continued. “A year ago or something even the weasel-sorry, Ronald Weasley came over to Aunt Dromeda’s house to ask if you were with us” Draco continued to spill over. “No one seemed to know what had happened to you, and no one was able to contact you. The fact I found you today is probably because of the old elf…” Draco’s speech wavered when he noticed Harry’s eyes had become cold and angry, fixed on him.

“You needn’t thank me for anything” Harry answered a little bit harshly. “If anyone asks, tell them that this is time for healing, time for the family” A smirk flashed. “Don’t bother me again, rely the same invitation to whomever asks” Harry didn’t stop then, even when his name rang behind him from a confused Draco trying to engage in conversation again, but Harry was just not interested, he was happy now, he had what he had always wanted and was not going to give it up. Not if he didn’t have to. Two years Malfoy had said, had it really been that long? It was clearly irrelevant and as such Harry refused to think about it.

“Master Harry” A worried elf welcomed Harry inside the house doors. “Is Master hungry? It’s been so long since Master is coming down for dinner” The old elf nagged.

“Kreacher, you are forbidden to exit the house wards or speak to anyone unless it is for groceries and other necessities. If you are not sure if something qualifies as necessary you come and ask me, is that clear?” Harry commanded the old elf, not bothering to answer Kreacher.

The elf felt the compulsion to obey and bowed reluctantly in his old age “Yes, Master”

Outside, a very confused blond looked at the doors of 12 Grimmauld Place, where the shadows of Harry Potter had disappeared.

“I’d like to get my name back-” The blond said to the wind. “My mother’s name back, really.” he continued with the words the brunet hadn’t stayed to hear. “My father disowned us; you see?” Draco looked to the floor. “We’re staying with Andromeda, and I know it’s not fair to ask you this. But our magic is weak, mother is sick, I came here to ask you for one more favour” A tear ran down his cheeks. “I was wondering if you could be our saviour one last time” The blond finished, a deep sigh later, he left the street, pleas and worry plaguing his mind.

“What happened to you, Harry?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had some time to edit, here´s a lengthier chapter.
> 
> TW: Non-con/dub-con, substance abuse.

> “ I wake up every morning with my head up in a daze
> 
> I'm not sure if I should say this, fuck, I'll say it anyway
> 
> Everybody tries to tell me that I'm going through a phase
> 
> I don't know if it's a phase, I just wanna feel okay, yeah
> 
> I battle with depression, but the question still remains
> 
> Is this post-traumatic stressin' or am I suppressing rage? “
> 
> (Falling in Reverse)

After that things started to get out of Harry’s hands, the potions were no longer working, he fell asleep at odd places and times, with undefined intervals. Other times he felt like weeks passed before he could blink. Whenever he fell asleep, he was pulled into nightmares and pain, blood and death were imprinted when his eyes closed and had taken to coffee and tea to try to remain awake.

His parents, no, his family had become restless, they wanted to be put to rest but Harry flat out refused every time. Even when they screamed hateful truths to him, he would take that any time over giving up on his family.

The effects of the stone seemed erratic at best, all of them seemed to age years in matter of seconds sometimes, others they would be as young as himself. Their energy would weaver too, but no matter how they sounded or looked their claims were the same.

_“You killed us, Harry”_

_“I wish you had never been born”_

_“We were so happy before you came”_

_“It was you who brought Voldemort to our doorstep, Harry”_

_“I escaped Azkaban only to be killed for your recklessness!”_

_“I just want Dora, I finally had a family and you took them”_

_“You’re the one who should be dead”_

_“You shame us, Harry”_

_“Was it even worth it?”_

_“Let us go”_

_“Better yet, join us”_

_“You should’ve stayed dead!”_

_“You’re a waste of space”_

_“Murderer”_

_“Disappointment”_

_“Freak”_

To many, it would’ve been unbearable. But Harry had dealt with worse in his young years, and honestly? He had said just as much to himself every time silence settled around him, worse even.

And so, like the times of Priori Incantatem, the other residents had taken to following him to deliver their daily venom. But no matter what, Harry still preferred the hateful words to being alone.

Occasionally, Kreacher would pop up beside Harry noisily, startling him at times due to his frayed nerves. After Malfloy’s impromptu visit, many had followed, Kreacher would take to inform Harry of each one of them. Harry however did not care about them, it was way too late…he had waited so long to hear from them, but he didn’t need them anymore, he had his family.

***

Warm air turned cold, wind whistled around the house and it became a true cacophony inside the house. Harry could not take it any longer, he still refused to let his spectral family go, but they had taken to old age and silence. His sleep and eating habits had never been worse and alcohol and potions were of no use anymore, not even the one he took to alleviate pain.

One day, he armed himself of a hoodie, didn’t bother to trim his beard and hair and apparated to Knockturn Alley. After wandering a while, he found a shady apothecary, it was run by an even shadier potions master that was used to selling to people without identities. Harry asked for something that took the pain away, the nightmares, the despair. Whatever the potions master had seen in his eyes, he had nodded cryptically and asked him to follow him.

By the time his family had become dust and only the echoes remained, Harry had long stopped to care.

He had found his next escape. The old apothecary had introduced him to _Hodag’s dust_ , a powdered solution that Harry had happily taken from that visit on.

Everything became irrelevant, his family melted away with the remnants of his will to live and he only lived under a mantle of nothingness, and only the despair for his next trip to the Hodag’s den remained, the only place that ever saw Harry Potter after the funerals (not that people were aware enough to recognize him).

The pull was so heavy, so…imperative that not long after, Harry had left Grimmauld Place. He had ordered Kreacher to leave and help in Hogwarts as he had done in the past, and without a glance back, he apparated out.

Piss, vomit and sweat had become the only smells surrounding him, warm and cold bodies laid around the place known as the _Hodag’s den._ A place where other lost ones gathered to share the holy grail of relief, relief of the mental, emotional and physical pain.

***

The first time it occurred, Harry didn’t understand what was happening to him, his muddled mind too far disoriented to understand the context. Harry was face down, a dull ache was forming in his lower belly, the forceful thrusts behind him had woken him up and were depriving him of breath, his bottom was raised and aflame with pain, he tried to struggle, but whoever was driving forcefully into him, smothered him into the flimsy mattress in the floor; pace quickening. The cock inside relentlessly rubbing something inside that turned part of the pain to pleasure despite his confusion and reluctance, the lack of oxygen enhanced the whole experience until bright light and stars danced behind his closed eyelids, inundating his brain and senses, his mind overexerted and promptly passed out.

Harry woke up to crusted cum and blood dried in his backside and legs, he was still at the hodag’s den, but he had been moved to a different place than he always crashed. What had happened floated in his mind, muddled but vivid enough for the few seconds he had been awake, he casted a sloppy _Scourgify_ , pulled his pants and trousers up and wept as he waited the Hodag’s dust to numb his mind once again.

In a sick and twisted way, in Harry’s mind (partly as a way to cope to what had happened) he felt like he to atone for his sins, the deaths he had caused and as the people who were there were mainly people who were unable to cope with the war, he convinced himself that the least he could do for them was to let them take what they needed from him, however they wanted. And after that day, the people in the den took, and took and took.

What had started as a self-imposed penance, became the only way he knew how to exist. In the bouts of cognizance he had, he ate and washed and clothed, with time the pain, the shame had become part of his release in his search of some kind of liberation to the never ending loneliness, pain, guilt he felt crushing him.

Being taken against his will was now a common occurrence, but was it really against his will if he did nothing to stop it? Whenever he was lucid enough he became cynical and as such had taken to tease strangers, he got used to waking up in strange places and apartments, but also got used to wake up after being knocked out cold by someone after a fight he had initiated at some point, picking himself up and erasing traces of blood, only scars and bruises left behind as a reminder.

Harry learnt that time heals or kills everything, it is a rule that everything that has a start, dwindles and dies someday. The avoidance that the Hodag’s Dust used to give Harry started to lose some of its effects. His Magic was absent some days and others it was rampant and wild. His mind was present some days, other’s he seemed to lose bouts of time.

Worst of all was that he had convinced himself that he needed it, he needed it all to go on. Because really, what else could he believe? If he thought it was all unfair, if he let himself think of himself as one more victim, as if the things he had gone through were not in his control, had not been entirely his choice, then he would collapse, he wouldn’t pick up himself day after day with the promise that maybe, someday it all would stop.

With the promise that maybe someday, he would’ve paid his dues even if by in doing so, he had lost himself, but at least he would be free ‘ _or dead’_ a voice supplied in his mind.

***

“Wake up, you need to go” The faceless man of last night shook him awake. “You need to leave now! My boyfriend will soon be back.” Said the faceless man pushing him from the bed.

Groaning, Harry looked around. Blinking blinded by the light coming from the open shutters.

“Hey tramp, no more freeloading, you need to go NOW” The screeching voice commanded.

Harry painstakingly left the bed and dressed himself, being called vagrant, tramp, slut, whore didn’t bother him anymore, he was used to it, he was also used to people thinking he was a homeless seeking a warm bed for the night (He surely looked the part), sometimes muggles, sometimes wizards who failed to recognize him under the hair and the scars and too scourgified clothes.

“Right, bye then.” Harry answered moving toward the front door.

“You’re not taking the money?” The man asked confused.

“What money?” Harry paused searching his pockets, but his shrunk satchel was still safe and secured in one pocket and his cigarettes and his concealed wand in the other one.

“For last night?” The unknown man prodded as if Harry was slow, maybe he was…

“Keep it, you might need it when your boyfriend kicks you out.” Harry said opening the door and leaving the apartment.

He pondered where to go from there, he hadn’t been at Grimmauld place for months now, he could go and open the place again, if only for people to stop looking for him (from time to time Harry would see the headers wondering where the hero had gone to after his 3 year absence), his head was as always floating and aching and decided that a long nap, a warm shower and maybe a full meal wouldn’t hurt him more. Making up his mind he tried to picture where he wanted to apparate, but his mind was reeling, he couldn’t concentrate enough to remember the apparition point he had set up.

“Walking it is” he mumbled to himself and hugged his jacket closer, even when the air was warm enough, he still felt cold and he didn’t want to risk recognition.

He walked for what felt like hours through London, he was even further than he ever expected and his weakened legs were aching by now, what a lacking nutrition and abuse did was reaped in this instances, at least the unknown man from this morning had not been too aggressive last night, he was able to walk just fine, that left only his legs and head to ache and struggle.

During his never-ending trip, he learnt that it was a day to his birthday, he was turning 21 tomorrow, and he wondered if in another life he would be celebrating today with his parents, his godfather and his friends, but there was no use to dream. He had lost it all, renounced to it all, he would celebrate as he did all days, either passed out at the hodag’s den, or at the Lurking Witch, a seedy bar he had come by in his endless need to avoid feeling, thinking. Maybe he’d go to the muggle sector, there were some places he’d frequented when he felt particularly daredevil and in serious need to let go, where he woke up not in a seedy mattress or a pretty apartment, but behind a dumpster, after some exciting street fight, knocked out unconscious, where the pain was not mental or moral, but entirely physical. He would’ve once considered his thoughts grim, but now it was reassuring, like a balm because he couldn’t fall lower, and he had nobody else to disappoint, he was absolutely alone now, he couldn’t curse anybody, harm anybody but himself.

“Potter?” A voice brought him out of his musings. “Where in the name of Morgana-” the voice started.

Harry realized he had lost his spectacles (that would explain why the Hodag’s effect had started to pass but his sight had not quite come back), he could not quite recognize the voice and he couldn’t see much, but the wizard was approaching him and his features clearing.

“Potter, is this really you?” The voice insisted.

“Malfloy?” Harry asked squinting myopically, wondering in passing why he couldn’t say Malfoy. “What do you want, why are you here?” Asked Harry impassive.

“W-what AM I doing here?” Malfloy stared open-mouthed at him. “Where have YOU been!? We thought you dead.”

“Good” Harry said taking a smoke, another bad habit picked up in the way. “Go tell them Grimmauld Place opened and that I died” He said taking a deep whiff.

“You must be kidding.” Said Draco. “Everyone has been looking for you relentlessly-”

“I don’t care nor see why anyone would bother” Harry answered listless. “I followed everyone’s advice and spent some quality time with my family after the war, but-” Took a pause for another mouthful of smoke “did you know that the resurrection stone stops working when the memory of your beloved dissolves?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Potter.” Draco looked at him in wonder. Harry had changed, he was a little bit taller than last time he had seen him, however he looked like death, deep purple moons around his eyes, his skin was slightly dirty and waxy underneath, grey even. His clothes hung from him loosely, his arms were not thicker than his had been back in 6th year when he had become a shadow of a man.

“No, you wouldn’t.” Harry took a final blow and crushed the smoke under his trainer. “You were taken into the embrace of the Tonks family; did you know that according to the inheritance I’m the Black Paterfamilias?” Harry said smirking humourlessly, playing with a second smoke.

“Y-yes I know…I still don’t understand where-” Draco said, shaking his head.

“I don’t know what happened to you, Malfloy, but it suits you. You look, healthier, kinder, even.” Harry pointed out, derision thick. “It was nice to chit chat, but I have lots to do, tomorrow is my birthday, did you know?” Said Harry turning away.

“Potter, wait!” Draco rushed behind Harry. “Andromeda has been sick with worry, Granger, Mother Weasley even-” A loud laugh cut Draco off.

“I asked you to tell them, it was time for family and bonding and healing!” Said Harry, laughing grimly. “Hey Malfloy, how are your sight-correcting charms?” Harry changed the topic suddenly.

“Good enough?” it came out as a question.

“Do a chap a favour?” Said Harry pointing to himself, general direction of his eyes. “I can’t seem to find my glasses”

“You Harry Potter, want me to, willingly point a wand at you and fix your eyesight?” Draco repeated.

“Never mind, foolish of me to ask.” Harry said turning to leave again, recklessly twisting in middle stride, disapparating inside Grimmauld Place, he was finally able to remember the apparition point he’d left open.

Once inside, the lights came on all at once and a crying elf came running “Master is coming back for Kreacher!!” said the small and decrepit elf, kneeling at his master’s feet and hugging his left calf relentlessly.

“I’m sorry Kreacher, but I’m not coming back, I’m setting you free.” Harry said heartlessly to the crying elf.

“No, nooo, no master, Kreacher is begging you, don’t be giving Kreacher clothes!!” said the decrepit elf crawling away from him as fast as he had come.

“Then return to help at Hogwarts, I will not come back, I came to set Grimmauld Place free” Harry said lightning yet another smoke. “but could you first make me something to eat? I’m ravenous.” he said retreating to the bathroom to take a scalding shower, taking the time to clean himself thoroughly and healing all his still open wounds and remaining tearing from long forgotten endeavours.

He changed his clothes, spelling the rest of his belongings in the enchanted holdall Hagrid had once given him. Harry had started to bore of his life, he was between leaving Britain for good or end everything once and for all, it was the only way to go to his family (If they still existed beyond the veil). He had long regretted his decision of coming back, of not taking the train when it was offered to him.

Taking a deep breath, he noticed his feelings had started to trickle back into him, it had been hours, maybe even a day without any aid to silence his thoughts, his emotions, his regrets, and the bottomless pit of pain and regrets. It would not do, but he needed his magic for an hour or two, and when under the hodag’s, it was more like untamed spurts of magic if any at all.

He concentrated on what he wanted the magic to do and in spurts of surprisingly controlled magic, the wards started to fall around him, the light inundating Grimmauld place, his magic expelling the smell of decay and stale that permeated the air. Grime and dust started to bleed out from the walls, the floors, the carpets, and drapes.

Harry let his magic clean the place and rushed to the drawing room where he picked up the resurrection stone, it’s energy humming happily under his grasp. He summoned his snitch and placed the stone inside, banishing it to his holdall.

Going down to the kitchen he found almost a feast awaiting him as Kreacher happily danced in the kitchen moving various appliances. “What are you doing, Kreacher? Are we waiting for someone?” Harry looked around warily.

“Master cleaned Grimmauld Place, master deserves the bestest of feast” Kreacher cried, happy as the time they had given him back Regulus’ locket.

Harry started to pile food in a plate. “Kreacher, I want you to join me for one last time.” Harry asked of the elf.

“Kreacher can’t, Kreacher is a low elf, and Master is Master” The creature looked at him as if he had sprouted a second and third head.

“Please Kreacher?” Harry pleaded, humour almost leaking into his voice. Circe, he was _feeling_ , that was not good, not at all.

“Yes, Master” The elf said bowing down to the floor.

The odd pair had almost ran through all their food when the main door banged open and steps sounded rushing towards them. Harry had barely stood up when a bushy ball of hair and limbs wrapped him in a bone crushing hug.

“Harry!” The hugger cried into his chest.

“Harry, mate!” A second voice enveloped them both in a warm hug.

“Stop, please.” Harry whispered, but loud enough to be heard.

“Harry! Draco flooed us to say he had seen you nearby this morning!” Hermione blubbered, refusing to let him go. “We couldn’t believe him, but we had to make sure-“

“Please, stop” Harry begged a little louder this time and both paused to really look at him.

“Mate-”

“No” Harry interrupted again “You can’t come here and decide that nothing has happened, that it was just yesterday that I was made aware that I was on my own, I’m not doing this.” Harry looked at them coldly, both of them never being in the receiving end of his glare before, they physically cringed slightly.

“Harry, what are-”

“No, I’m not doing this.” Harry shook his head and closed his eyes.

The door opened again and in came Molly Weasley, distracting all from the discussion at hand. Harry was about to apparate out but was suddenly enveloped by a large bosom. “Harry, my boy! We have been so worried, I’m so glad you are back. Let me look at you, you are so thin! Did someone do this to you?” The Weasley matron enquired.

Harry took a step back from her and shook his head in denial more than negation “You have it all wrong, I’m not coming back. I’ve been here all this time. I’m leaving for good” He said dispassionately.

“Harry, my boy-“

“ _Don’t_! don’t call me that.” Harry warned taking a step back, almost at the stairs.

“Harry, mate” warned Ron “don’t talk to her like that” he said softly, kindly, but taking a step toward his mom. Molly was looking at Harry with tear brimmed eyes.

“No, you can’t all decide _now_ that I exist and that I am your ‘ _mate’_ or ‘ _your boy’”_ Harry raised his voice now “Now I’m family, Molly? What changed! You are a son down and anyone will do!?”

“Mate, that’s enough, you’ve gone too far.” Ron stepped menacingly forward, defending his sobbing mother.

“Did I, now?” Harry laughed drily.

“Harry, I didn’t mean it like that” Molly begged, crying now.

“Mum?” Ron turned to his mom, looking confused.

“At Fred’s funeral, Harry was coming with us to the burrow, but looking at him made me remember the war” Molly Weasley sobbed “S-so I asked Harry to give us time to heal, to bond and be a family again” Molly cried openly. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I wasn’t thinking right, I didn’t mean for you to-” she blubbered, reaching a hand to Harry.

“Mum, we asked you where Harry was…” Ron’s voice came out angry. “George and I asked if **you** knew something and you said he had to be somewhere else, you-“

“She meant what she said.” Harry interrupted Ron’s spiel and shook his head again looking only at Molly Weasley. “But you weren’t wrong, I’m not part of your family, nor Andromeda’s, nor Hermione’s…My family is dead, and I’ve been spending time with them as was suggested to me, time and time again.”

“Harry, I’m sorry, I was desolate for Fred’s death, I wasn’t thinking-” Molly cried softly.

“Harry, what do you mean you’ve been spending time with your family?” Hermione asked, fearing the worst.

“I open at the close” Harry answered grinning almost perilously, sitting down and waiting the drama to be over so he could go. He felt his skin crawling, bubbling, burning, he wanted desperately to stop feeling, stop thinking, stop it all.

“Oh Harry! You didn’t!” Hermione cried softly.

“They were with me for a while, accompanying me. After a while they wanted to go back, but I wouldn’t let go, so they started to tell me the truth, I spent months hearing them sprout hate and vengeance on me, but it was all still better than losing them again. Over the time, they faded and rotted away.” He answered listlessly. Harry took a smoke out and lighted it wandlessly with a blue bell ball taking in a deep breath.

All eyes were on him, assessing the changes, he knew, he looked more like Sirius when he had left Azkaban, no more than a bag of bones and waxy, ill coloured skin. The effect of the Hodag’s dust tinged his skin slightly blue, with his tan skin he looked almost grey.

Harry noticed a last visitor enter his parlour, but he was almost content on recognizing the blond blurb that entered the house.

“Harry, I’m so sorry” repeated Molly Weasley, understanding probably because Ron had brought her up to speed about what happened that last year. “I thought you’d go to Andromeda’s-”

“I’m sorry Mrs. Weasley, but it doesn’t change the facts, I’m not a Weasley, not by blood and not by law. And I’m most definitely not a Tonks, or a Black for that matter.” Harry pointed out “I’m a fucked up shadow of a man that has no family and has no business coming back and pollute it all.” He finished his smoke, vanishing the stub. “Malfloy, glad you joined” He said almost animatedly. “Care to come closer? I still can’t see shit”

Draco pointed his wand at Harry’s face, muttering a slow sing-song spell, and not a minute after the last rhyme, Harry could see better than ever.

“You, summoned?” Draco approached him warily.

“Yes, lend me your right hand, please.” Harry asked good-naturedly.

Draco seemed to ponder his options, around them Molly sobbed in the arms of his son, and Ron looked torn between consoling his mother and demanding an explanation because he had mourned his best friend and his mother appeared to have had a hand in his disappearance, as unintended as it had been at the time. Hermione was trying to talk to Harry, but he dismissed her, focusing all his attention on Draco, and extending his right arm to him as in salute, waiting. Draco extended his hand forward, expecting something but uncertain of what exactly.

“I Harry James Potter, current Head of the House of Black, hereby renounce to the station and name Draco Lucius Malfloy as the rightful Heir of the Black state, blood, name and vaults, with the only requirement that the next in line is Theodore Remus Lupin, do you accept?” Harry’s voice resounded in the halls of the house.

Draco had paled and with a wisp of voice he finished “What?”

“Do you accept?” Harry repeated.

“I-I do” Draco answered.

“So mote it be.” Harry concluded the ritual.

Light surrounded the pair for a couple of seconds.

“Right, it was good and all. Wish you all the best and all that Jazz” Harry said gathering his holdall “Ron” He nodded once. “Hermione” another nod. “Draco Lucius Black” He grinned towards the blond and twisted, leaving behind a perplexed crowd.


	4. Chapter 4

> You and me, we're not the same
> 
> I am a sinner, you are a saint
> 
> When we get to the pearly gates
> 
> You'll get the green light
> 
> I'll get the old door in the face
> 
> (Mother Mother)

After the war, Draco was sure his life was over.

It wasn’t to say it hadn’t been relinquished since the day the Dark Lord had come back to his body. But now he would be held accountable for his mistakes and foolishness.

He would like to think of his beliefs as a lapsus-brutus in his adolescence, and maybe it had been, but it was also true that his actions had consequences and society, himself even, expected him to be held accountable.

For years, all his life, really. Draco had believed that the purity of the Wizarding World was held in the purity of the blood. By following the Dark Lord, he even came to think that this was strengthened by the dilution of the customs on the pop-muggle culture. And that this was the basis of the cleanse that the Dark Lord dogma was about. It was soon noticeable that the whole agenda was power hungry individuals, led by a psychopathic monster.

It was a hard crash-course to learn that the purity of the Wizarding World should be held in the permanence of the old ways, the culture that had made Magic choose to manifest in very specific individuals. What were Muggleborns if not individuals that were chosen by Magic itself to create a new strain of magic birth on the universe?

After witnessing Granger defeat all academic and wit expectations and Potter’s resilience and valour, how could he not start to question the doctrine of pure-blood supremacy of his youth?

He had even asked his parents if Potter was not supposed to be a pureblood having been born from a witch and a wizard, and he had regretted it the moment the words left his mouth. His father had taken his voice for the duration of the Easter break for daring to voice such idiocy.

By the time Draco had turned sixteen, his father had failed his mission to retrieve the prophecy for Voldemort, and Draco’s future had been paved.

He had begged for The Mark and the power it entailed, he had begged for the opportunity to kill Dumbledore in an attempt to save his parents, he had tried to become who everyone expected him to be, and he had suffered every moment afterwards.

When he had lost all hope of going back to easier and simpler times, the golden trio had been brought to the Manor, and for the first time he hoped. He hoped Potter would win, he trusted Harry to free the world of the malignant entity he had claimed in the bowels of the Wizarding society. Damned be the consequences to himself.

As a miracle, just after the battle of Hogwarts, Granger and Harry had spoken for him and his mother, pleading in their favour and they had readily accepted the conditions for their release before their trial.

After the funerals, the citations for the trials were set for the first week of June, morbidly, he thought his birthday gift was to be a sentence in Azkaban and rot beside his father who without a doubt, would serve a sentence of innumerable years.

The day of the trial, Potter and Granger were summoned to deliver their testimony again, but nobody had heard from Potter since the funerals. Draco vaguely remembered Potter’s sad face, watching the family leave the cemetery after the Lupin’s funerals, at the time he had wondered why he had not followed them, but Mother had said it was not the right time to question Aunt Dromeda.

At the end Potter had not been present in their hearing, but Neville and Ronald Weasley had backed up the first draft of Potter’s testimony. It was stressed the impossible odds that a sixteen-year-old boy had faced to save his family. The retelling of what had happened at the Manor, how he had hidden Potter’s identity from Bellatrix and his Father and the revealing that Narcissa had also protected _The Boy Who Lived Twice_ by lying to the Dark Lord, had the surprising effect of Lucius spiting hatred at them for tipping the outcome of the war. Taking their name, their wealth, and their family magic before the right to do so was taken from him. It had surprised even the ones who were vouching for tougher sentences for the Malfoy family.

And because of his father’s outburst, Draco had walked out with a light sentence. He was to remain in the UK for the next 5 years and he was to be assigned to the reconstruction of Hogwarts. His mother had to serve a house arrest, to be served surprisingly at Andromeda’s house. He had to ponder if his father’s outburst had served the intended purpose or if Lucius really repudiated his family for their actions.

Perhaps the harshest loss was that of his name.

Because of old laws, after the trial their name had changed to _Malfloy_ , their name could no longer be connected to their old surname, and as magical laws would have it, their magic had trickled down to only the remaining magic on the Black name by inheritance, but without the acceptance from the Black paterfamilias, they barely remained magical.

Andromeda had tried in vain to add them to her family tree, even if Tonks was not an old name, but as her marriage to Edward had been without the blessing of the Blacks, she had no lawful connection to the family anymore if the Paterfamilias could not consent.

With the shame of now being a Malfloy and the shame of having fought for the wrong side brought him, he decided he had to do his best and attempt to be humble and learn to be better. He went to Hogwarts and aided to its reconstruction as mandated by his parole, but that was not all, despite being unable to do more than level1 spells and tiring almost immediately he threw his all into the project.

Some days he would see Weasley and Granger also in the castle grounds, sometimes they helped, some others they would only go to McGonagall. As far as he understood, nobody knew what had happened to The Boy Who Lived.

After the beginning of the term he was taken under the wing of Lovegood and Dean who had also attested that they could’ve had faced worse fates if not for Draco passing them food, water and blankets and after a profuse apology to Granger, they had surprisingly become friends as well. The rest of the student body had an agenda to have Draco expelled or preferably sent to jail, but pride was no longer an issue, he was humbled by his circumstances and accepted the protection that his friendship to the young heroes brought him.

By the same time, his mother had fallen ill, it was unclear what was causing it, but it seemed that her magical core had little magic to keep her functioning.

During the first year, almost all their conversation turned to Potter. The selfish git didn’t know how worried his _family_ was and Draco appointed himself to Potterwatch. During the holidays he would find himself outside the old Black Townhouse, waiting to catch a glimpse of the elusive Potter, he wrote a letter a week, but every single time the letter was returned to him without answer. Once, he had tried to send it standing outside of the house and realized that the wards didn’t allow post to be delivered. In his pub crawls with the remaining Golden Duo and Luna they commented that the Floo was deactivated and that they had been unsuccessful to apparate in or enter the house even when it remained visible. Hermione went on commenting how different and strong the wards were, and that it had not been the case before as it had been only protected by the Fidelius wards, she hypothesized that Potter had rewarded the place and the message was clear: Leave me alone.

Just after the end of his last year at Hogwarts, he was playing with an aquamarine haired toddler when he thought to bring up the topic of Potter with his aunt.

“You know Aunt Dromeda, nobody has seen Potter since the funeral of Cousin Dora. Have you heard from him since? I saw you talking to him right before we flooed here.” Draco asked nonchalantly. His aunt tensed her shoulders and then seemed to collapse in on herself, grabbing the edge of the kitchen’s isle. “Aunt Dromeda, are you all right?” He asked concerned.

“T-the guilt is killing me Draco.” she answered in a weak whisper. Draco put baby Teddy in the rug so he could play and crawl freely and went to his distraught aunt.

“What do you mean, Aunt?” Draco asked guiding the older witch to a nearby stool.

“After the funerals, he wanted to come back with us, and I asked him not to. I told him without so many words that he would be better if he went to spend time with his family.” The old witch was crying softly now. Draco was watching her horrified, Potter had no family to speak of, unless you were referring of those muggles that he had grown up with, or the Weasleys, but they had not seen him since either.

“Aunt, you know he has no family! What were you thinking?” Draco prompted horrified.

“I was not thinking! I stupidly was referring to the Weasleys, they had their own to mourn and he would be better with them than with us. Our family was part of what had hurt the boy in the past!” She tried to justify. “I didn’t know, Draco. I didn’t know” his aunt was now sobbing, catching even the attention of a toddler that was now crawling toward them at top speed.

“What didn’t you know?” Draco pushed, because he had to know. A part of him urged to make things right by Potter, it was a deep desire, an ache pushing him to help Potter deeply rooted at his core.

“Molly, Molly also asked him to spend some time alone with family.” Andromeda was now bawling openly. “The boy was left alone-” She gasped out. “I tried to contact him a month after the funerals, it had taken me that much to realize my mistake; but by then the wards were already in place and no one had access to the house.” Draco gave his aunt a handkerchief that she held to her face. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”

“A month! You left an orphan alone to mourn?!” Draco raised his voice, startling little Teddy.

“I had just lost my husband and my daughter, even Remus was lost to us!”

“And he lost everyone! Either to death or idiocy!”

“I know!” She screamed “I know.” whispered defeated.

Draco held his aunt in his arms, trying to understand her state of mind to turn an orphan away when he probably needed someone to care for him the most. But he couldn’t, by Merlin he couldn’t.

After that episode, Draco had redoubled his efforts, not only of catching sight of an elusive Potter, but of demonstrating everyone he was more than his mistakes, that the golden trio’s mercy had not been in vain, that he was worthy. He had started Healing apprenticeship after that summer, and secretly he did it for Harry, to at least show him that he had not misplaced his trust in Draco.

**

Half a year after his conversation with his aunt, he found himself outside of Grimmauld Place. He kept probing and pulling the wards net, but it was no use. It was clear that Potter was an adept and very powerful Wizard, and with his magic almost depleted he could only “ _annoy”_ the wards until someone showed up to stop him. And it had worked! After two weeks of _passing by_ after the day’s lectures, a decrepit house-elf showed up and Draco quickly casted a notice me not charm so muggles around them would not notice the little elf.

“Mr. Narcissa’s son has come to save Master Harry?” The elf cried out without introductions. “Master is all day with his parents, Master Harry is going insane, he is not eating. Kreacher is not knowing what to do to help Master.” The old elf kneeled and held to Draco’s calf.

“Kreacher, what do you mean he’s with his parents?”

“Master is bringing ancient and dangerous magic to the house, he is thinking he is with them, but he is alone!” Kreacher answered vaguely.

“Can you ask him to meet me, Kreacher?” He tried.

“Kreacher lives to serve.” The elf bowed and walked back inside to retrieve his master.

After minutes that stretched to hours, a spectre that had once been the Boy Who Lived appeared in front of him.

The shock almost made him forget what they had talked about. Potter’s skin was pale, almost yellow as he was an olive-skinned man. The skin on his bones sagged a testament of rapid weight loss. The dark marks under his eyes made it apparent he had not slept lately well, or for a very long time.

The only recognizable features were his bright green eyes, the harsh scar and his long but still shaggy hair.

Their exchange had been frustrating as it had always been, Potter had returned Draco’s old Hawthorn wand and after pointing that it was time for family and bonding and healing, he disappeared from Draco’s sight.

Andromeda’s voice resonating inside Draco’s mind. Whatever had happened to Harry, life had not been kind to the young saviour.

Draco had been annoyed at himself; his astonishment had stopped him from engaging Potter, from telling him how missed he was, how everyone would love for him to come back to them. He could have seized him and apparated him to Mungos! He could’ve apparated him to Granger and Luna and Ron. He should’ve asked him to be invited in so the wards would admit him. He should’ve begged and explained that his mother was ill, that they needed him, that he had come to care!

Anything! Anything but staying there looking at the echoes of hero of the Wizarding World.

In his desperation he remained in there for hours until day came to night and even then he continued to prod and push the wards, but the old elf never returned. It was clear Harry had ordered not to engage with anyone anymore and he could beat himself for it! The only connection anyone had with Potter and he had fucked it up!

Draco had apparated to Luna and Granger’s apartment, they were sharing a flat since after the war. Hermione hadn’t been able to reverse her parent’s memories as they had been further tampered with, trying to make them remember her would ensure their deaths and she had come back to London alone and mourning her own losses. He had become an usual visitor to the tiny flat, the wards allowed him to apparate directly inside.

“Hermione? Luna!” He bellowed. “I saw Potter today!” He announced to anyone on earshot.

As expected, Luna and Hermione barrelled towards him, followed by a Ronald Weasley, a Pansy Parkinson −Luna’s lover. Yeah, weird,− and Blaise Zabini.

_“Did you find him?!” “Is he alright?” “Why isn’t he with you?” “Can you take us to him?” “Did he ask about us?” “When can we see him?”_

Draco tried to calm his…friends, he guessed. And after bombarding him with questions and finding himself with an armful of Luna, he started to retell his interactions with the lost hero.

“No” Ron’s voice boomed in the room after the retelling of Andromeda’s and Molly’s dismissal of Harry after the funerals. “My mother would never!” He screamed at them. “Whatever happened it was not because of my mother, she loves Harry!”

“So does Andromeda, but she was not thinking at the time, she hurt him and so did Molly-”

“No! I’m telling you that is not what happened, it can’t be!” He looked insecure, in need of reassurance “I can’t, I need- I need to ask mother.” and Ron twisted out of the flat.

“Well, that went well.” Pansy said uselessly.

“I’ll go to the burrow, make sure things don’t explode” Blaise piped in.

After the first sighting of Potter in years, the Potterwatch became a job in shifts, there was always someone outside of Grimmauld Place, everyone waiting for a second with Harry, a moment to explain and bring him back. All efforts were fruitless and after a couple of months only random visits brought people to the outside of Grimmauld Place.

A day that he had crashed at Hermione’s flat, came a letter from McGonagall. The old Black’s elf had reported to work at Hogwarts the previous night, it seemed that Potter had left Grimmauld place, and had not been present for long periods of time since last summer.

To Draco, his mother, his studies and finding Potter had become an obsession. He would spend all his time either walking around wizarding London or at school. Wishing against all odds to be able to find Potter, thank him and explain and beg to have his name and magic restored, his worry for his mother’s wellbeing was killing him as the doctors assured she didn’t have much time left, they could do without the fortune, but he wanted to save his _maman_ and belong again, and he wanted to repay Potter by giving him somewhere to belong again.

To be fair, Harry had gone full hermit by the last of the funerals, he didn’t know about the family magic had abandoned them. Draco didn’t hold Harry responsible for his situation, he only hoped, but he would make ado if Harry refused to give him his name back hoping he would be lenient to his mother. Still, no matter the outcome, he would like to help Harry, beyond life debts and pride, he felt he owed the hero to become someone who simply cared.

Lost in thoughts of sickness, debts, belonging and to be honest the upcoming new term at the Wizarding University in Edinburgh. His last one before the rounds at Mungo’s started. He was startled by almost bumping to what he assumed to be a homeless, a homeless person with grey skin, dirty long hair and beard, some scars visible and piercing green eyes.

“Potter?”


	5. Chapter 5

**TW** : Non-graphic gangrape. I’ll mark the first and last word in **bold** so if you want to jump the scene you can. And assault aftercare marked as well.

After Harry had apparated away, silence reigned. One would expect chaos, several _someones_ crying and confusion. Well, there was a lot of that one, confusion.

Draco had stood there with his hand still extended in front of him, unbelieving. He felt as magic enveloped him, running in his veins, and flooding his magical core. Before the moment Harry had called him ‘ _Draco Black’_ he wasn’t really that aware of the level of pain his muscles were under, it was quite clear that so many years barely running on residual magic had taken a toll on his body.

Seconds stretched to minutes and all was moving in slow motion. The house started to bloom around them, Kreacher seemed to rejuvenate, he could feel his ancestral magic taking roots, making even _breathe_ – easier.

“Did he just –” Hermione broke the silence with a thread of voice.

“Oh, Harry!” Molly cried. “He disappeared again, it’s my fault, it’s all my fault!” she continued to cry, her arms around her son, who patted her back absentmindedly, too stunned to comment at all.

“It is.” Draco said.

“Draco, mate−“Ron growled.

“Oh, don’t go all territorial on me now. I mean that it is her fault, and Hermione’s and yours and mine, the whole fucking world’s as far as I’m concerned. We all turned our backs to him in his moment of need.”

“But he should’ve known how loved he is!” Hermione defended.

“Should he? Was he who had to reassure himself he was loved?” Draco continued. “Yes, there is a large portion of people who has been worried sick and missed him, and then there is the rest of Wizarding population who lauded him and still wonders about the lost hero. But could any of us really say that we took the time to make him feel included when it mattered the most?” Draco roared. “I didn’t, yes, I had shit going on at the time and I didn’t. But we all did that, not one of us paused and thought about the one who had sacrificed the most and gained the least.”

“I did−” Hermione started.

“No, you didn’t. You told him you wanted to go find your parents by yourself, and you were in all your right to do so, but none of us took the time to reassure him he had a place to go back to, or that we would come to him. And even then, how long did it take for you to come and find him, weeks, months?” Draco raged on.

“He saved me, he saved my mom, he saved all of us.” Draco almost whispered. “He died for all of us, and nobody cared the state of mind of a 17 year old boy who had gone through hell and barely made it back

“I know that we were not close, we still aren’t but I care. And I know I owe it to him to let him know that I wasn’t back then, but I intend to be from now on…I just have to find him – again”

“You’re right” Molly said. “We need to find him.”

“Mum, I don’t think he wants to be found.” Ron said sadly, seemingly chastised.

“He doesn’t, not by any of us, but he might listen to Draco.” An airy voice said from the door. “It is him who continues to cross paths with Harry, it has to mean something.” Luna said coming closer to hug Draco.

“Even if I did, Harry wouldn’t come back here.” Draco said sadly.

“Maybe not,” Luna said softly. “But we will cross that bridge when it comes” She smiled up at him. “For now, you have to go back home, and make sure the magic has taken hold on your Maman, Draco.”

“Do you reckon−” He breathed out. Even the possibility of restoring his mum’s magic filled him with joy.

“Only one way to make sure” She pushed him forward, toward the floo.

“But wouldn’t it be hypocritical from me to abandon him again?” He hesitated.

“But you aren’t, are you? You will find him again when he needs to be found and not before that, now you take care of your mum, go.” She pushed him again.

“You’re right, I’ll go to your apartment after.”

“Do you really think Draco is meant to find him?” Hermione asked. “They weren’t close, they still aren’t”

“They were always closer than we know and he’s the closest to a friend he has now, he’s the only one who has talked to Harry these past years, and I’m sure they will continue to cross paths. It is how destiny works.” Luna said wisely.

“I will never understand you” Draco said going back for a quick hug. “But I don’t need to understand you to know that you are always right” Draco kissed the top of her head. “I’ll go to mum now, go home everyone.”

“Mother?” Draco shouted from the fireplace at Andromeda’s house. “Mother!” He rushed to the stairs, desperate to see her, see if she’d gotten better.

“What’s wrong my Dragon?” A still weak voice answered from her room.

“How are you feeling?” He said kneeling by her bed.

“I’m ok, my Dragon” Narcissa held a hand towards her son. Draco immediately took her hand and brought it to his lips.

“Narcissa Ursula Malfloy, I hereby restore your name and family magic. Do you accept your Black heritage?” He said solemnly but almost a soft whisper.

“I do, I hereby take my family name and declare myself Narcissa Black” She answered immediately, trusting her son absolutely.

“So be it.” And Draco kissed her fingers lovingly.

A soft windy drift of magic left Draco’s and enveloped his mother, he was able to see how the magic softly and lovingly caressed and restored the matriarch’s health. Her white hair went back to glossy blonde, her dark locks restored with a tint of age to it, her lips turned soft pink and her grey Black eyes recovered their glint. He could see how her fragile body filled back, magic restoring her health and with a sharp gasp, he could see his mother, the mother he remembered, was before him, healthy, restored, alive.

“Draco, how?” She sat immediately, opening her arms to her son who didn’t hesitate to envelop himself in her arms.

“Harry, mum. It is always Harry.” He answered, tears trickling down his face and dampening his mother’s shoulder. “I saw him today, he’s−not well… And still, still he gave me back our name, our magic, even our wealth” Draco openly cried.

“We owe him much, Dragon.” She said, hugging her son, revelling on the knowledge that she had strength again and could afford to do so. “Tell Maman everything” She asked, and he did.

It was late when Draco arrived at Luna’s apartment. Luna, Pansy, Blaise, Ron, George, Hermione, Dean, Seamus, and Longbottom were all with a fresh cup of tea. All too silent to be enjoying themselves.

Blaise was holding George’s hand who seemed to be crushing his bones, a restless silence then, Draco surmised.

“Hey,” He said from the threshold. All turned to look at him. “What’s going on?”

“Is your mamma ok?” Luna asked, not offering an answer to him.

“Yeah, yes, she took her name again, except the ‘Ursula’ she never quite liked it, it was a miracle to see her life−magic coming back to her and gaining her strength back”

“I’m so happy for you, we all are!” Luna smiled weakly at him.

“No one quite answered my question, though.” He pressed on.

“Nothing, not really.” Pansy offered. “It’s just−guilt, we’re all feeling guilty after having seen Potter today”

“You didn’t” He said confused.

“Yes, well− but some of us did and…what has happened to him is our fault.” Ron said.

“Mum−” George said brokenly. “I c-can’t believe she did that, Fred would be so disappointed…” George sobbed dropping Blaise’s hand and burying his face on them, distraught.

“ _Caro mio, non piangere più_!” said Blaise, kissing George’s hand. “If someone is guiltless, it is you _amore_ ”

Draco was always surprised at Blaise’s relationship with George, but everyone had been relieved when George started to smile more, joke a little bit and fell in love with his Italian lover. Blaise had always been attracted to those in pain and the redhead had caught his attention and then irredeemably, his heart. But they worked and they leant on each other.

“Blaise is right, George. You in special cannot blame yourself, we don’t really know what Harry has been through, and as such. Even when we all could’ve done better by him. It is moment now to think about what we can do for him now on.”

Everyone was looking at him surprised, like nobody expected him to really care. His heart clenched.

“You all thought I was just looking for him to get my family magic back, didn’t you?” He said, a little hurt. “I thought you knew me a little better than that.”

“I never doubted you.” Luna quipped. Draco looked at her with a grateful smile.

“We, uh−no, of course we didn−“ Ron started.

“Good to know.” Draco said disappointed. “I’ll let you know if I hear about Potter, now excuse me.”

“Draco, you don’t have to go.” Hermione’s voice followed him to the fireplace. “We didn’t−“ But Draco never knew what they did or didn’t mean, because he had flooed to Grimmauld Place.

At his arrival he found a very distraught house elf rushing to him.

“Kreacher, what is it!?” Draco kneeled to talk to him.

“Master Black! The house is in pain!” The old elf said crying.

“What do you mean?” Draco questioned him, he could feel the dread dripping from Grimmauld Place, like it was grieving after feeling so alive when Harry had given him back his family’s magic. “The Manor never felt quite like this.”

“The Malfoy Manor is never having a heart!” The old elf explained. “Grimmauld Place belongs to everyone it has ever belonged to and is having fear now. Kreacher is not knowing what to do!” Said the old elf, big fat droplets dripping from his eyes.

The pain bleeding from the house seemed to seep into Draco, he started to feel faint, like after having drunk a whole flask of Firewhiskey. Terrible pain taking over his head, his arms, his legs, his−everywhere, really; building up and exploding in a scream. Draco could feel his insides ripping to shreds, his vocal cords scratched raw. He had been put under the _cruciatus_ curse several times in his life, this was like those times.

“Master Draco has to break the link!” The elf screamed and pulled his ears in distress. “Master Draco has to follow the pain!”

To Draco none of this made sense, but he could feel the origin of the pain and it was coming from his magical core, like set aflame, a strong tug could be felt and without thinking it twice, Draco apparated.

The pain continued but felt muted, he had appeared to a dark alleyway. **Hollering** and laughter could be heard nearby, some pants and groans clued Draco to what kind of activity was the entertainment.

“Yeah Michael, the curse makes his insides twitch deliciously, you should all try it!” Someone screamed in approval, it made Draco’s stomach clench, bile rising.

“Then maybe someone should take over it and let me enjoy the Chosen hussy!” A voice laughed loudly.

“Gentlemen,” Draco interrupted. The Michael character lifted the curse, turning to the entrance of the alleyway.

“Sod off” Michael’s voice answered roughly.

“Aww, don’t be like that, mate! We can share a secret, can’t we?” Draco insisted.

“Not unless you want a share of his fun.” Michael answered roughly, trying to intimidate the newcomer.

“Step away, now.” Draco threatened, still hidden by shadow.

“Fuck off! Not gonna tell you another time.” Michael said losing his cool.

“Or what?” The stranger defied.

“Want to join the fun that bad, huh?” Michael whooped. “Come on then, we’re barely charging tonight, he’s out cold! The best way to celebrate his 21st birthday!”

Behind Michael a large body of assorted men were crowding around what Draco could only think was **Harry**.

Rage blinded him and he stroke. Curse after curse getting rid of everyone around him, _incarcerous_ , blinding spells, fainting spells left his wand in repetition until, he was holding Harry’s almost nude and frail figure in his arms.

Harry wasn’t quite unconscious, but he was unresponsive. Still breathing, albeit shallowly. He must be in a unsurmountable amount of pain. Draco started to perform some pain numbing spells, Harry quieted his trembling slightly.

“Potter! Potter, please, you have to hang on.” Draco patted his cheek tenderly. “Potter, please, hang on. I’ll take care of you in a moment.”

Draco’s insides were churning, nausea and anger and despair raising exponentially by the second.

“Come on Potter, just a noise, or squeeze my finger?” He said taking Harry’s hand on his. After a moment that stretched an eternity, he heard a faint ‘ _hmph.’_ “Oh god! You’re still in there, wait a moment, I swear it will take only a moment!”

Draco spelled Harry’s clothes back in place and propped his head tenderly on his own leather jacket, he leaned on and kissed his forehead tenderly. “Just a second.”

Draco modified everyone’s memory substituting Harry’s face by a common John Doe, he had always been good at them as he was very sensitive to Legilimency. When he had erased Harry from the men’s memories, sent a patronus (A silver Niffler) to Ron saying he had stumbled around some guys using unforgivables on a Muggle and where to find them, that he was taking the victim to a Muggle hospital and then going home.

“Potter, I’m so sorry. But I have to take you back to Grimmauld Place.” Draco said holding Harry close to his chest. “Please hold on”

“Kreacher!” Draco screamed the moment they were at the parlour.

“Yes, Master” The elf said, still distraught.

“Close the house to visitors until I tell you so, can you do that?”

“Kreacher serves the Noble house of Black.” The elf said bowing so low his nose touched the floor.

“Harry, Harry, please. Hang on! What did they do to you?” Draco said levitating Harry to the closest room on the first floor, it was obviously a guest room, the air a little mouldy. “I’m going to talk you through everything I do, I want to take care of you, ok?”

Not expecting an answer, he started his basic **treatment**.

“I’m now cutting down your shirt, I need to see if you are hurt somewhere.” Harry was covered in bruises and scars, his skin pale and grey-ish and sticking to his bones. He started to heal all the bruises and tender skin he could find.

“Now I have to remove your jeans. I’m so sorry, but I swear to you I’m a healer in training.” Draco said as he removed the items in Harry’s pockets and then proceeded to vanish his jeans off.

“Morgana!” Draco said after removing the garment. He could see a very inflamed knees, probably broken, Harry’s legs were also covered in small cuts and bruises, blood profusely running down his legs. “I’m so sorry, I’ll take care of you.” He soothed. “I have to remove your pants, Harry. I have to heal you.” He explained and vanished them, clinically tending to all of Harry’s wounds, taking some samples as he was taught at the university, it was up to Harry then to decide if he wanted to do something about it, but as his attending healer (in training) he had to do right by **him**.

“We’re almost done, Salazar, why are you so unresponsive, I don’t know how to help you.” He said tending to all of Harry’s wounds and summoning the Black’s ancestral potions reserve. “You have to drink; you’re doing so well. You need to drink this.” He said pouring some potions and massaging his throat softly, helping him gulp them down. “I need to clean your blood, please stay with me, we’re almost there. Kreacher!!” He said pouring a Blood cleansing potion down Harry’s throat.

“Master Draco called.”

“Yes Kreacher, please hand me Harry’s pyjamas.”

“Kreacher can’t, Master. The holdall only respond’s to Master Harry’s magic.” The elf twisted his hands helplessly.

“Then bring me some fitting night clothes in the house, clean ones!”

The elf apparated away and brought some in a blink.

“Now bring some more blanket’s if he has a favourite one, bring that one.” The elf did what was asked of him immediately.

Draco took the proffered blankets and tucked Harry as tight as possible without constraining his hands.

“Now sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.” Draco promised and poured a single drop of a strong version of the dreamless draught that bordered in the Draught of the Living Dead. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” Draco said caressing his cheek tenderly. “Sleep.”

Harry slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for delay! the last several weeks have been so stressful and work unbearably hard.   
> Finally had a moment for myself.
> 
> I read your messages, I swear some days I re-read them and it is the only thing pushing me through this period.
> 
> Love you all!  
> Love,  
> Ele.


End file.
